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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



Kings and Queens 






J 



AoLPxSsi 




Kings <2# Queens 

C Being the Poetical Works of 
Beulah, Belinda, John, and David 

By Florence Wilkinson Z^.,^..^ 

Illustrated by Ethel Franklin Betts 




New York : McClure, Phillips & Co. : Mcmiii 



THE LiBKAl;? Of-" 
CONOr.ti^ 

Two Co^;io6 Recoivf. 

SEP 25 1903 



COPY. B, > j 



Copyright, 1903, by 
FLORENCE WILKINSON 



Published, September, 1903, N 



(^ 



CONTENTS 

PROLOGUE : 

PAGE 

The House of Great Content . . . . i6 

David's Poem 20 

Kings and Queens 22 

THE BOOK OF BELINDA: 

A Cross Lady 27 

Possessions 28 

In Case of Emergency 29 

The End of the World 30 

The Week 32 

My Children 33 

When Beulah Went Out of Her Head . . 34 

A Botanical Adventure 36 

Thoughts During Recess 37 

Little Dear 39 

The Red Sea 41 

Jacob Green 43 

Regeneration 45 

The Tricksy Dream 47 

Mother's Face 49 



Contents 



PAGE 



THE BOOK OF JOHN: 

Houses 53 

Boys and Girls 54 

Observations of an Entomologist . . . . 55 

Miss Deidamia Town and the Lie ... 57 

The Snow Lady 58 

Hypocrisy 59 

Sporting Blood .60 

«.«-,- Barn-yard Etiquette o . . 61 

A Spellbound Audience 62 

Things 63 

The Hen 64 

A Lesson in Pedigree 65 

Being a Boy 66 

On *' Uncle Tom's Cabin" 69 

Spring Flowers 70 

A Brave Fellow 72 

Wash-Day 74 

The Point of View 75 

A Contest on Parnassus 76 

John A-Dreams T] 



THE BOOK OF DAVID: 

The Blind Beggar 81 

The Islander 83 

Fancy's Horn 84 

Daddy-Long-Legs . * 85 

[vi] 



Contents 



THE BOOK OF DAVID: 

PAGE 

The Creaky Rocker 86 

Pilgrims from Birth 87 

The Collapsible Cup 88 

The Journey 89 

Theology 91 

Truants 92 

Supper-Time 94 

The Way of the World ...... 95 

A Confession 96 

Way Off 97 

A Good Idea 98 

Lizabeth's Little Dog 99 

The Gipsy Lad . • 100 

Our Washerwoman . . 10 1 

The Woodchopper Man 103 

THE BOOK OF BEULAH : 

Provoking Belinda 107 

Delphic Utterances 108 

The Great Meadow 109 

Strange Cities no 

The Grey Feet in 

Rustling Ladies in the Corn 112 

Wisdom and Knowledge 113 

My Runaway Sunbonnet 114 

From the Looking- Rocks 115 

[vii] 



Contents 



THE BOOK OF BEULAH : 

PAGE 

Hats ii6 

My Sister Silence 117 

BEYOND : 

Beyond 121 

The Lizard 122 

Naughtiness .. . .123 

Mysteries 124 

Dreams » ..... 125 

The Great Sea 126 

A Dream Tragedy 127 

Memory 128 

The Green and Yellow Basket . . . .129 

The Backdoor 131 

Lonely 133 

A Queer Poem 134 

A Crying in the Night 135 

The Little Shoe 136 

The Consoler . 137 

The Backwards Road 138 



[viii] 



PROLOGUE 

David and I 




ON a certain November day David and I, de- 
spite several obstacles, were as happy as 
the proverbial kings and queens. With 
this pleasant frame of mind the weather 
had naturally something to do, for not even kings 
and queens may sink below the soothing influence of 
sweet winds and pretty weather. Also, we were in 
the first flush of hearing our names thus indissolubly 
linked together. But the Castle-in-Spain wherein 
young happiness knows itself lord had not fallen to 
our lot. More truly, we had not gone abroad to 
claim our patrimony. Instead, we shared a town 
apartment with Great-Aunt Susan. I have known 
of some who became so familiar with their ancient 
relatives two generations removed that the qualify- 
ing epithet was dropped. Not so with Great-Aunt 
Susan, upon whom the title bestowed a congenial 
magnificence, such as one associates with Charle- 
magne or Frederick of the Tall Grenadiers. Yet 
nothing stood in the way between us and our inher- 
itance, whether it were a temple in Arcady or a tent 
[3] 



Kings and ^eens 



in the forest of Arden — nothing except the lingering 
city habit and the austere spectacles of Great-Aunt 
Susan, through which medium, by force of long 
training, I still occasionally viewed the w^orld. But 
we were very rich, having simple tastes and little 
money, and neither income nor expectations to be 
lived up to. Happily, David was of that profession 
which liberates its devotees to the freedom of wood 
and field. 

The morning was seductive, like a memory of 
September, stealing back to have a look at its old 
domain. 

"Let's take the runabout," said David, "and 
Sweet Emma Moreland, and go for a drive." 

"But you should be painting," said I. 

"And you inditing a sonnet!" 

"And both of us following the Real-Estate sign." 

We fell a-musing till David suggested that we 
might go driving and still be thus trebly employed. 
We took an umbrella with us, in case it rained; a 
sunbonnet, should the wind blow away my hat-with- 
the-violets; painting-traps for David, and lunch for 
the appetite that would surely wait upon us both. 

"Crazy children," said Great-Aunt. "Where are 
you going, and how long will you be gone?" 

I, in the early glow of married emancipation, 
laughed easily. 

"We are going Nowhere-in-Particular," an- 
swered David, "and we shall be gone ever so long." 

Sweet Emma Moreland w^hinnied persuasively. 
[4] 



Kings and ^.eens 



"What do you mean?" asked Great-Aunt, ad- 
justing her spectacles. ''It's November, no time of 
the year for gipsying." 

"Indian summer," I pleaded. 

"So full of atmosphere," added David. He 
flicked his whip tov^ard the purple hill line against 
which the steeples and chimneys lost themselves. 

"Smoke!" said Great-Aunt, contemptuously. 

"It interests us," said David. "There is where 
we are going. Maybe we shall return for dinner, 
and maybe not." 

Emma Moreland curved her neck to observe our 
goal and by various springy enthusiasms testified her 
approval. 

"You are as much a gipsy as we; aren't you. 
Sweet Emma Moreland ?" said I, stroking her satin 
nose before I climbed into the wagon. "Good-bye, 
Aunt Susan." 

Soon we reached the purple hills beyond the 
chimneys and steeples. It was eleven o'clock recess 
in a suburban school-yard as we drove along. The 
children were whooping out-of-doors as if it were 
dandelion time. 

"Did I ever whoop like that, I wonder?" I re- 
marked, meditatively. 

"A few more miles, dearest, and you may do so 
again," replied David, astutely. 

It was a blue bath of a morning, like May, only 
dreamier, mistier, rarer. The pale pastures were 
stroked with gentle shadows, the trees were velvet- 
[5] 



Kings and '^eens 



trunked like pastel drawings, the rambling walls 
and fences were almost the colour of the sky, so 
saturated were they in luminosity. It was a Puvis 
de Chavannes landscape of delicate colours and 
austere exquisiteness. The foliage was scant, tufts 
and spatterings and fringes of palest blonde and 
copper. Emma Moreland, when we spoke her 
name, turned back at us a pensive white forehead 
and a liquid eye full of vague appreciation. She 
was unchecked and unblindered and sensitive to all 
harmony. Nor did she despise a casual nibble that 
the wayside might afford, when the intelligences 
behind her themselves went afield. 

Toward nightfall we were still on the road and 
enveloped in a shimmering lavender sunset. Warm 
savours of summer came to us from mint banks 
where a brook babbled. The effulgence spread and 
deepened to rose madder. 

"A pink twilight," cried David; "I have been 
waiting ten years to paint one." 

"You need wait no longer," said I. 

He set up his easel and went to work, while I 
and Sweet Emma watched and criticised, with dis- 
crimination born of long patience at our roles. By- 
and-by it got colder, as the light waned. I ran up 
and down the road, reciting '*The Splendour Falls," 
which always warms me. Emma Moreland com- 
forted herself with farther and still farther expedi- 
tions for botanical discovery. 

I had just reached that line, which I freely para- 
[6] 



Kings and ^eens 



phrased, *'0 love, I die for that rich sky." Into this 
I was able to infuse a wealth of personal feeling. 
I put cold finger-tips on David's forehead. 

"Frappe!" he exclaimed, seizing my hand and 
kissing it back to warmth. He wiped his brushes. 
"Do you see that little star between the folds of 
those hills?" He waved his palette westward and 
then to the corresponding light that flickered on his 
canvas. "It gives the human touch, doesn't it, and 
at the same time carries out the keynote of mystery." 

"Something more human and less mysterious ap- 
peals to me this moment," I suggested, as David put 
me into the runabout. Emma Moreland was per- 
suaded to abate her scientific zeal and to resume 
the journey. 

"That's where we shall spend the night," said 
David, pointing to the little star in the folds of the 
hills. It grew larger now and flung out a penumbra 
of yellow rays. To me it became more attractive 
as it enlarged itself, but David said it had lost the 
subtle charm of the undefined. I was glad, how- 
ever, when it defined itself in unmistakable terms 
as the lamp in the kitchen window of a farmhouse. 

The people were a little surprised to see us, es- 
pecially when in answer to one of their questions 
we were obliged to confess that we did not know 
where we were going or how we had come. David 
showed them his picture, and when I explained that 
the light between the hills was the lamp in their 
kitchen window, they were so pleased that their 

[7] 



Kings and '^eens 



hospitality knew no bounds. The man allowed it 
was a dull season for house-painters, and he didn't 
blame a man for picking up odd jobs. The woman 
asked if I had done my fall cleaning and when I 
admitted to having no house I called my own, she 
waxed expansively sympathetic. 

The next morning we drove on with small com- 
punction. The barnyard was not so aesthetic by 
day as it had seemed by night. The woman donated 
us a basket of lunch, sandwiches cut generously 
thick; higdom, a kind of pickle peculiar to that lo- 
cality, and a glass of barberry jelly. 

"Don't worrit yourself to return the glass," said 
the thrifty soul, *'onless you happen-like to pass by 
this-away again." 

Ten days of delectable weather followed, miracu- 
lous, as I look back upon it. Great-Aunt Susan fol- 
lowed us with neat purple-ink letters at occasional 
post-offices which we forewarned of our coming. 
But we were beyond the pale of purple-ink elegance. 
We continued as happy as kings and queens. We 
had some days since decided that ''Apartments to 
Let" communicated no answering thrill to our 
pulses, and now we looked for our patrimony on 
blown hill-tops or beside laughing brooks. But we 
did not at once light upon our veritable heritage. 
The wonderful weather continued, wonderful be- 
cause so rare, the opportunity thus to know inti- 
mately November contours and tints; a northern 
sky and earth in an atmosphere of southern balm. 
[8] 



Kings and ^eens 



On the tenth day, by the grace of Him who loves 
lovers, wt found ourselves at Chenandilla Valley. 
It w^as noon when Sweet Emma Moreland first 
sniffed the green herbage before the village inn. 

The village wore the freshly washed countenance 
of a Sunday child. The grass was so vivid in front 
dooryards that one expected, by all laws of primer 
congruity, to see lambs nibbling there. There was 
such a circle of vanishing hills about the undulating 
horizon as suggested the beatific end of Christian's 
journey. There was a river as placid as music and 
willows as pensive as a young maid's reverie. The 
autumn branches, like old yellow lace, shivered 
against a tiny breeze. 

At tea-time the hostess of the Sweet-William 
apologised for lack of variety in the fare. David 
replied with cordiality that bread and butter, Dutch 
cheese, and apple-sauce was a fit repast for kings. 

"I had a boarder once," said the little, crooked, 
brown lady, wistfully, "who spoke like you; his 
voice was just like the church-bell a-ringing. He 
was Elder Babcock's cousin. You be'n't no kin to 
him?" 

He sorrowfully admitted no kinship. The brown 
lady hovered about us as we ate our bread and butter 
and apple-sauce. She regretted that we were not 
fond of cake, of which she had baked three kinds 
that day, as well as doughnuts and cookies. 

"We country folks are great hands on cake," she 
said, humbly. 

[9] 



Kings and Queens 



How did she know that we were not country 
folk? I am sure that if any one ever possessed a 
country soul, it is I. I can sit for hours on a stump 
in a wood and vegetate as the ferns do. 

When I aroused myself from my meditation, 
David was negotiating with Mrs. Sweet-William 
concerning a new-laid egg for his breakfast. 

"I'm keeping only one biddy," said the lady, "but 
if you was to stay steady, I could make out to buy 
a pullet of Aunt Patience. Then you could each of 
you have your egg in the morning, and when you 
come to go, a nice dinner for you." 

The next day or two we wandered about the 
little town, between which and ourselves there 
sprang up an instant affinity. Hooded ladies — for 
the month was November, to which season the 
hoods were a mark of deference — raked leaves and 
banked up rose-bushes on tiny lawns. Elderly gen- 
tlemen in ample garments of nondescript cut and 
colour, gathered windfalls for the cider-press. A 
little boy, with taut elbows and erect chin, furiously 
choo-chooed down the middle of the street. Lest we 
might be alarmed, he stopped (with difficulty, so 
great was his momentum) and explained that he 
was "a engine-car." 

When golden five o'clock came, the farmers went 
by with rattling milk-cans and the original "engine- 
car" steamed slowly down the valley and with 
decorous dignity drew up on the grass-grown tracks 
of the Chenandilla station. It bore upon its shining 

[lO] 



Kings and ^eens 



side the frightful legend Pendragon, but seemed an 
innocent-mannered dragon, with one lonely car for 
abbreviated tail. A few parcel-laden passengers 
alighted and were greeted by their waiting friends 
with the respect attendant upon those who betake 
themselves to foreign parts and return home en- 
riched. The official who combined in himself the 
duties of conductor, brakeman, porter, and stock- 
owner of the road, sprang backward with his step 
in hand, and the Pendragon departed loathfuUy on 
its way. 

During one of our walks an ancient citizen sa- 
luted us and offered us the use of his boat. 

**But look out for the rapids," he warned us, as 
we embarked at the foot of his garden. "There be 
a turlble whirlypool down the river a piece." 

David, with characteristic recklessness, insisted 
on taking the rapids, but they were not of the awful 
character that the old man's tone suggested. I 
think the latter had preserved from his infantine 
training that terror of the "whirlypool," which had 
probably many times wrecked his pea-pod flotillas 
on the snarling pebbles. Upon our return to port 
beneath a venerable willow, we were met by the 
solicitous boatman, and, as an expression of grati- 
tude for our escape, he urged upon us plentiful pota- 
tions of his cider. The cider wore the ruddy com- 
plexion of claret, an appearance which we failed not 
to comment upon, much to the delight of the simple 
soul. He then confided to us, quite as some old epi- 

[II] 



Kings and ^eens 



cure of a Carthusian might impart to a favourite 
crony the secret of his golden cordial, that the cider 
was thus made roseate by an infusion of beet-juice. 
In suppressed tones, that took their cue from his, 
we promised not to publish the secret to an eager 
world. 

During our days of country driving, our taste 
had become established on many points previously 
hazy. We had gradually educated ourselves as to 
what must be and what must not be, in our house 
of great content. The sound of running water, the 
shadow of a tree, a little spring flower-bordered, a 
hill, a boat-landing, a fair distant prospect, kind 
neighbours, and the seclusion of a lane. There 
were many lanes In Chenandilla, all were secluded, 
and the neighbours were kind. A tender apprecia- 
tion of our presence seemed to permeate the place. 
Emma Moreland had grown very fond of her stall- 
comrade and whinnied messages to him on every 
possible opportunity. We began to feel mightily 
pleased with ourselves, as if our very steps breathed 
beneficence. 

Daniel, the little boy with whom we had an early 
acquaintance, volunteered to guide us to the Look- 
Off. When we reached that dizzy pinnacle, he told 
us how, one snowy day, as he stole through the un- 
derbrush, he came upon a rabbit sitting on the 
ledge that is as a sill to the forest window whence 
one looks ofE from the wooded top of Mount Hem- 
lock. 

[12] 



Kings and Queens 



"There he set, just as nice as a person, looking 
ofE from the Look-Off Place," said Daniel, with the 
awed and innocent eyes of the very young. ''What 
do you s'pose he was a-doing of ?" 

"Perhaps just enjoying the view, like ourselves," 
I answered. 

"He came out to see how the great Lord made it, 
I guess," said Daniel, approvingly. "Golly! He 
made it quick and He made it good !" 

After supper, we went hand in hand down the 
village street (there was but one), and hit upon a 
trail new to us, meandering along the river's edge. 
A young moon, feather-soft, flaked the dimness 
of twilight. Here and there small lights pricked 
the hills. Little sky-stars, also, hinted at themselves 
and then fled away. The trail led us to a knoll 
which was a stone's- throw (David's) above the 
river. A cow-path wound hoofily around a beech- 
tree. The impact of hoofs indicated the presence 
of a spring. We heard it gurgling contentedly 
under a mat of leaves. We stood on the knoll and 
surveyed a fair prospect. David put his arm about 
me. 

"You and I," he murmured. 

"The house of great content," I said, very softly. 

We regarded our patrimony in tenderest silence, 
the kind that angels and lovers speak. 

"The north light for my studio will be here," 
said David, after a while, diagramming the air sug- 
gestively. 

[13] 



Kings and ^eens 



"And oh, what a charming outlook for the 
kitchen window," I exclaimed, turning my back to 
him and framing a lovely reach of river between 
my two hands. ''But the cow-path must be con- 
demned." 

"It's rather paintable, don't you know?" said 
David, provokingly. He is well aware of the deep- 
seated antipathy between me and the bovine race. 
In this matter, etiquette books to the contrary, I 
refuse to put myself second. 

"An occasional cow in the kitchen is a mere de- 
tail," added David, and then sealed my lips against 
reproaches, there in the young moonlight under the 
beech-tree. 

"I think this bank will be blue with forget-me- 
nots in the spring," said he, kneeling by the hidden 
voice of water. 

"And we can plant lilies-of-the-valley and iris by 
the river-edge," I cried. 

"And you will pose for me there in a violet 
gown." 

"Let's start right off and buy the land." 

Feverish visions danced before my eyes of a rival 
procession striving to outbid us for this heavenly 
spot. 

"Wait," said David, teasingly. "You run and 
buy the land, while I get the carpenter to start the 
house." 

"The masonry comes first," I replied, with a dis- 
play of practical knowledge that David did not ex- 

[14] 



Kings and 'ijueens 



pect. We laughed and called each other children, 
and went back to the inn. We stopped on the way 
to say good-night to Sweet Emma Moreland. She 
nosed in David's inside vest-pocket for her accus- 
tomed lump of sugar. I have since persuaded him 
to put such goodies in an outside pocket, and have 
found that it saves considerable wear on his clothes. 
Oh, I am become sadly practical since those early 
days! 

The prayer-meeting bell was gathering in its 
flock. A dear, pale, tall lady, in a fluff of shawls, 
stopped to speak with us. She was Aunt Patience, 
whose pullet, by the way, proved most conscientious 
in her attention to our daily breakfast. 

"I heard you thought of staying with us," said 
Aunt Patience, with quaint stateliness, **and I 
wished to bid you welcome." She spoke as one who 
speaks for her people, and indeed, as we afterward 
learned. Aunt Patience had long been arbiter of 
courtesy, rather than of fashion, in Chenandilla. 

*'If you desire a kitten, I can offer you your choice 
of five, well-bred and gentle creatures, every one. 
My Angora cat, Gwendolen, has recently become 
a mother." 

Nothing could have outdone the grave respect in 
her mention of Gwendolen. We thanked her as 
gravely, parried successfully an invitation to the 
meeting, and passed on. The good people went 
forth, the processional lanterns twinkling by inter- 
vals through Chenandilla's lanes and by-paths. 
[IS] 



Kings and ^eens 



David painted a memory-picture that night, No- 
vember Moonlight, and I wrote a poem. 

THE HOUSE OF GREAT CONTENT 

There is a certain gracious garth I know 

Unwrought by human hand, 
Most like a faery garden in a book 
Whereon no mortal man may ever look, — 

This lovely croft of land. 

Not far away the sober highway creeps, 

My pleasaunce heeding not ; 
Its calm of mountain curves in pure embrace, 
Blue-windowed into realms of heavenly space 

About the joyful spot. 

A fair green meadow in a river bend 

By whispering willows crowned; 
A sweep of hillside like a gallant wall, 
And lone upon its ledge a pine-tree tall 
Guard this enchanted ground. 

It hath a spring, bordered divinely blue 

With amulet of flowers, 
A tender isle that fringed with elder is, 
Where fireflies weave their silent symphonies, 

Spangling the twilight hours. 

So cunningly within the hills 'tis set 
In happy youth apart 
[i6] 



Kings and ^eens 



It seems beyond the ken of toil and time, 
Lisping the little river's intimate rhyme 
Deep in its lyric heart. 

Beloved, let the stranger world go by 

In futile wonderment 
While, some rich day, there builds for you and me 
Between the willows and the plumed tree 

A House of Great Content. 

This is how we came to the Valley. Of the 
things between then and now there is not time to 
tell, but of the making of this book, one word. It 
is not a made book, as other books are made, but 
wrote itself from day to day in the lips and in the 
eyes of the little kings and queens that came to 
share our kingdom. Mine was the hand that trans- 
lated with pen and paper. That is all. 

Belinda was the first queen over us. She was 
named by Great-Aunt Susan and received in recom- 
pense a gold spoon and mug, upon both articles her 
own name proudly perpetuated. These emblems 
she wielded with all the authority of those born to 
crown and sceptre. And this despite Great-Aunt's 
repeated and lucid exposition of the fact that a mug 
and a crown are not interchangeable emblems. I 
myself bowed before Belinda's taste, for the gold 
mug sat very quaintly among her red-gold curls. 

Brother John came next, a little man from his 
earliest babyhood. He was famous at that time for 

[17] 



Kings and ^eens 



sitting backward at table. Especially when we en- 
tertained guests did he thus demonstrate his disap- 
proval of our gregarious habit. We were vouch- 
safed only the sight of his mop of straw-coloured 
hair and his square cambric back, except for such 
brief glimpses as were compelled by the precarious 
passage of spoon to mouth. Brother John spurned 
assistance. He would walk alone or not at all, such 
was his scorn of the effete and unmanning grown-up 
aids. The cruel pitfalls that nature set for his pride 
he encountered with a baby fortitude almost heart- 
rending. To stand in silence with his face to the 
wall was the only indulgence that, after overmas- 
tering calamity, little Brother John allowed him- 
self. But the expression of his face, during those 
tragic periods, the world never knew. 

The kingship of little John was brief. In his 
own words, "I became, as you might say, really a man 
when the babies decided to get born." 

David and Beulah grew up together in the mystic 
bond of twinhood. Beulah's first recorded speech 
was in reverent admiration of David's five pink 
toes, thrust at her by the little lad when she cried 
for nourishment. David first essayed the unaided 
strength of his legs in a frantic effort to clutch little 
Beulah from the yawning chasm of the coal-scuttle, 
for which she yearned. Upon the ensuing dual 
catastrophe it is needless to dwell. 

But now I am becoming motherly-reminiscent, a 
distinctly unliterary tendency, and not to be en- 
[i8] 



Kings and ^eens 



couraged in a book. When I take my pen In hand 
nowadays I fall to prating or dreaming, so I must 
here put a period. I have set down these verses 
with small effort at literary farm, in some cases just 
as the babblings came from the children's lips. At 
times I have found Beulah's unlettered scrawls on 
the skirts of her paper dolls or on the shaving curls 
which she wears when she is a princess. I have been 
unseen amanuensis at the tea-parties and games, I 
have played eavesdropper when David hobnobs 
with his beloved Mrs. O'Hara at the windy clothes- 
line. More often I have interpreted the dim fan- 
cies in the depths of wonderful child-eyes. I would 
that those who read this little book could see with 
me the group which is part and parcel of my life: 
John, his brave forehead and out-door blue eyes 
wide with the fearless sun ; Belinda's splendid head, 
her dear, practical pout, and the capable, sensitive 
hands that know their uses; David's bandit bright 
look, and the magic of his voice; and Beulah, re- 
mote, grey-eyed Beulah, with the wistful quiver to 
her lips, and a heart that almost breaks with love 
for her world. 

Of the Littlest One, who came and went, I can 
say nothing, for her fingers are still about my heart. 
Beulah understands best. 

David, my first king, leans over me as I fold this 
last page. 

"You and I, dearest, are not in the book," he says. 

"Yes, sweetheart, for our children are ourselves.'* 
[19] 



Kings and ^eens 



DAVID'S POEM 

DAVID THE FIRST is not a poet, but once 
he wrote a poem. It happened before he 
knew me, and yet he says it was inspired 
by me and sums up all his unmated yearning for me. 
He says he will never write another, for I have been 
his Poem ever since. David does not know I am 
putting it into the Book. 

My soul cries out with longing 
For that dear house my home: 

It crowns the end of every way 
Down which I roam. 

It hath a portal open 

Unto the happy sun,' 
And windows star^embroidered 

When day is done. 

But best of all and dearest, 

Serenely set apart, 
I see her waiting for me. 

The Woman of my Heart. 

Her hands are made for loving. 

Her lips for stainless truth, 
And her clear eyes are beautiful 

With God's own youth. 
[20] 



Kings and ^eens 



My soul cries out with longing 
For that dear house my home; 

It crowns the end of every way 
Down which I roam. 

Yet have I never seen it, 
Though still it beckons me 

With sweet and poignant promise 
Of what shall be. 



[21] 



Kings and ^eens 



KINGS AND QUEENS 

HE little brown schoolhouse is the cave 
Where gnomes and goblins dwell; 
The bell that rings for School Let Out 
Is a strange enchanted bell. 



T 



We are not children any more, 

We are very grand and old; 

We are kings and queens this afternoon 

With garments of pure gold. 

The doggie is the star-man, 
As wise as you please, 
Reading the skies at night-time, 
The moon and Pleiades. 

The parrot is the jester 

Who sits upon the gate, 

Making the sad queen laugh and laugh, — 

Named Green-Cap the Great. 

Here are Samarcand and Andalusia, 

Wild wonderful places all; 

The chestnut-tree is Italy 

And the pasture fence where the cow looks over 

Is the hoary Chinese Wall. 

If you wave your hands, mother, and cross your 

darling feet, 
You will see our bright procession a-dancing down 

the street; 

[22] 



Kings and ^eens 



Glitter and shimmer and red-booted pages 
And the leopards behind in their glorious cages. 

You will hear the trumpets like billows of the sea, 
And when they sound the loudest 
And the dust flies the highest 
And the glitter is the brightest, 
Then come We ! 
Those kings and queens on their milk-white steeds, 
Look, mother, they are — We! 



[33] 



THE BOOK OF BELINDA 




M 



A CROSS LADY 

ISS Deidamia Mfzpah Town 

Is a cross lady. 
She has her parlour shades drawn tight 
And keeps her kitchen shady. 



No streaks of sun, no pots of flowers, 

No cat or kittens tiny, 
But such a brushed-up, empty look, 

All black and cold and shiny. 

I went to buy some eggs of her 

For David's birthday party. 
I said, politely as I could, 
''Your roosters keep a-laying good." 
She said: "Is that so, smarty?" 



[27] 



Kings and ^eens 



POSSESSIONS 

LL the things that people have 
Look just like them; 
My father's tall, plain napkin ring, 
And mother's silken hem. 



A 



David's old cap out in the hall, 

I'd recognise in Jericho, 
And Beulah's sash is so like her, 

They could find it by the Hoang-Ho. 

Our Katie's apron on the hook 

Looks so supremely Ratified 

It shows me all the rest of her. 

Even the way her hair is tied. 



[28] 



Kings and 'ilueens 



IN CASE OF EMERGENCY 



N 



David 

OW what would you do if a horrible lion 
Came roaring out of that wood? 



Belinda 

I should climb right up the butternut-tree 
Or run as fast as I could. 

John 
Ha, no such cowardly acts for me; 

By jingo, I'm not of that sort. 
I should like pretty well to pepper that lion 

With a dose of 22 short. 

Beulah 
Oh, John, how very unkind you are, 

I hope that your wish won't be granted! 
It is better always to be polite. 
And ask him first if he wishes to fight ; 

For perhaps that lion is enchanted, 
And is a poor lady trying to speak. 
And it sounds rather loud but she feels very meek ! 



[29] 



Kings and ^eens 



THE END OF THE WORLD 



H 



OW do you suppose the world will end ? 
Burst to shivers like a rocket, 
Or close up gently like a book, 

Or snap like Belinda's locket?" 



"I think 'twill all burn up like this, 
In the twinkling of an eye ! 

And when we open our lids again 
Lo, a new earth and sky!" 

"That will be very inconvenient, 

And some one might get hurt. 

Suppose we are just eating dinner 
And haven't had dessert?" 

"Or s'pose," said John, "we're at croquet, 
And I've just knocked your ball. 

Shan't I have time to raise my mallet 
And twack you out, at all?" 

"It must depend on what we're doing,'* 
Said Beulah, rather slow. 

"If I was playing checkers with father 
And each had one more go, 

"I'm sure that he would smile and bow 

In his politest way, 
^Excuse me, Mr. Angel, one minute; 

We've two more turns to play.' " 
[30] 



Kings and ^eens 



Then mother's voice came: "Children, hush! 

The baby's going to sleep." 
"By jingo," whispered John, "here is 

A proposition steep, 

"What would the Trumpeting Angel do, 
Who calls the quick and dead, 

If mother raised her finger : 'Hush, 
The baby's gone to bed!'** 



[31] 



Kings and ^eens 



THE WEEK 

THE whole round week is parcelled off, 
And each day has its sign: 
There's washing-day and ironing-day, 
And bake-day, rain or shine. 

There's scrubbing-day and sweeping-day, 

And Sunday for the collection-penny, 

Then washing-day again, and so 

There's not one day too many. 

How very nice it would have been, 

O mother dear, for you, 
To have some extra days put in 

With nothing much to do. 

If there were ten days in the week, 

You would have three for playing. 

Six days for work and still the seventh 
For preaching and for praying. 



[32] 



Kings and ^eens 



MY CHILDREN 

HEN I grow up and am a big lady 
I'm going to have children three; 
Beowulf and Theodolind 

And Persis their names will be. 



w 



I may decide on triplets, too, 
Three little laughing girls, 

As beautiful as three princesses, 

With nut-brown dangling curls. 

My children will obey me well, 

Go quickly when they're sent; 

I do not always mind mamma, 
But that is different ! 



[33] 



Kings and 'fiueens 



WHEN BEULAH WENT OUT OF 
HER HEAD 



M 



Y sister Beulah once got sick; 
She had the mitten-fever; 
She said, "Go 'way," when I peeked in, 
And cried when mother went to leave 
her. 



'Twas shameful how they petted her, 

And she did act the queerest. 
She wanted orange-juice all day, 

She did, when oranges was dearest. 

I wasn't 'lowed to suck the skins 

Nor sit and hear her talking 
About that Chinaman by the door 

And Dark Things on the ceiling walking. 

One night she went out of her head, 

Nurse said to Doctor Ball; 
I don't know how she managed it. 

Her ear-holes being rather small. 

'Twas such a funny way to go. 

Not asking leave of mother; 
And if she never had come back 

That loose head would have been a bother. 

[34] 



Kings and ^eens 



They said she wandered all night long, — 

And it was in December ! 
I'm going to ask her when she's well, 

I do hope that she will remember. 

Where did she go, and why she went, 
And how she did get out, 

And did the head have dreams at home. 
With Beulah wandering about? 



[351 



Kings and Queens 



r 



A BOTANICAL ADVENTURE 

I FOUND a flower named Bouncing Bet 
This morning in the roadside grass; 
I got my skirts all sopping wet. 
I took it to the Botany class 
And Teacher showed us very plain 
The little pistol that it had, 
Beneath the Maggie flying-glass. 

And then we wrote down in our books : 

"The poplar name is Bouncing Bet 
And it is found in wayside nooks, 

Escaped from gardens where it grew; 
But sometimes cultivated yet." 

Dear Bouncing Bet ! how spirited 

And fine that was of you ! 

To run away and to escape 

From stiff old gardens long ago 
And paths made prim by hoe and tape. 

A brave adventure to have planned! 
Oh, I can see you, stooping low, 

Creep slyly underneath the gate. 

Your little pistol in your hand. 



[36] 



Kings and ilueens 



THOUGHTS DURING RECESS 

THE girls keep saying little rhymes 
Out in the yard at recess times : 
One, two. 
Button your shoe: 
Why, it's more than a mite of a baby can do. 

Dear little shoe, 

White or blue, 
And the pink little toes that are peeping through. 

Three, four. 

Walk the floor. 
Toddle about from cradle to door! 

I will take his hand 

To help him stand. 
See him walk alone! He feels so grand. 

Five, six. 

Pick up sticks. 
He has forgotten his darling tricks. 

He's a little man 

And he helps all he can. 
Oh, I cannot say the others they had; 
Some were merry and some were sad. 

— ^Leven, twelve. 

Toil and delve. 
Poor little children, I pity them so! 
Is that the reward for being eleven? 
I think I had better always keep seven. 

Thirteen, fourteen. 

Girls are courtin. 
[37] 



Kings and ^eens 



What that may be I have not found; 
It has a rosy cosey sound. 
I think I'll like it by-and-by; 
At least, I'll try. 



[38] 



Kings and ^eens 



LITTLE DEAR 

THERE is a girl moved in next door, 
They call her Little Dear; 
She is the worstest-mannered child 
That ever I did hear. 

She screams w^hen people comb her hair ; 

I tell you, she is bad. 
She says the loveliest prayers at night 

And stamps when she is mad. 

She ran out in the yard one day 

Without her shoes and dress! 

She throws her spoon upon the floor 
And calls her food a mess. 

And when she visits other children 

She never likes the game, 
And when we go to visit her 

She's naughty just the same. 

But when "Papa" comes home at night 

With parcels from the city, 
She acts as sweet as anything. 

And all dressed out so pretty. 

He lets her ride upon his shoulder, 
As he comes down the walk ; 

You'd think she was a perfect angel ; 
You'd ought to hear her talk. 
[39] 



Kings and ^eens 



I rather guess that if he knew 
Her sassy words to me 

He wouldn't call her Little Dear 
And trot her on his knee. 

But papas have such simple ways 
^ And are so trusting, too, 

Fd sort of hate to tell him all 

The things I've saw her do. 



[40] 



Kings and ^eens 



THE RED SEA 

ET'S play the Israelites," said Beulah, 
^'Escaping from the Promised Land; 
I will be Moses leading them 

And holding up my hand." 



L 



"Let me be Moses," David cried, 
"Because I soon shall be a man, 

And have a splendid beard like Moses; 
You know you never can!" 

But Beulah answered that she knew 
Much better how to prophesy; 

"Besides that, Moses he wore skirts," 
Said she, "and so do L" 

We played it in the barn up-stairs 
Because we needed lots of room. 

John said he would be Pharaoh's horses, 
And ride the stable broom. 

"Then I am Pharaoh," David shouted, 
"But what shall poor Belinda be? 

Oh, yes, because her hair is red, 
Let her play the Red Sea." 

"No, I am Aaron," I replied, 
"I'll go and get a blossoming rod; 

Or else I'll be the Israelites 
And walk across dry-shod. 
[41] 



Kings and ^eens 



"The hole that drops into the manger 
Will make a nice Red Sea for you, 

Where Pharaoh's horses and his men 
Can easily fall through." 



[42] 



Kings and ^eens 



JACOB GREEN 

HERE is a boy on Penny Street, 
His name is Jacob Green. 
He has a Maltese pussy cat. 
He treats her dreadful mean. 



T 



He tweaked her by the tail one day. 

She humped her back and spat. 
He said he wasn't sorry, neither. 

She was nothing but a cat. 

I told him what I thought of him, 
And the next day, I guess, 

He was took sick and had a nurse 
Who wore a striped dress. 

I growed a flower in a pot. 

They called it hyacint'. 
I took it round to Jacob Green. 

'Twas pink as peppermint. 

It came up from an onion bulb; 

'Twas raggedy and slim. 
I said it wasn't very nice. 

But it made me think of him. 

I bought, too, from the candyman 
A splendid sugar-stick 

For Jacob, then I hurried home 
As tight as I could lick. 
[43] 



Kings and ^eens 



For it was raining just as hard, 

My legs got wet and wetter; 

But when I thought how kind I was 
I seemed to like him better. 



I 44] 



Kings and ^eens 



REGENERATION 

TOLD you once of Jacob Green, 

The dreadful boy he was ; 
There's no one else in all the world 
Would do the things he does. 



I 



He ate his lunch one day in school, 
Right in the 'rithmetic class. 

And when the teacher called him up 
He gave her awful sass. 

Last summer at the Baptist picnic 
He stepped upon a toad. 

And when there was a funeral 

Played Injun in the road. 

And after that he had a fever. 

I guess it was the sin 
A-itchin' in his hands and feet 

That kind of settled in. 

Jacob was sick the longest time, 

A year or most seven weeks. 

And when he came to school again 
He had the whitest cheeks. 

And all his clothes were spick and span, 
And my! he looked so clean. 

The boys they mocked him impolite 

And snickered, "Mister Green!" 
[45] 



Kings and ^eens 



When teacher marked him in her Book 
And called him "Jacob Dear," 

I thought he'd make a face at her 
Unless he didn't hear. 

But when she tapped him on the cheek 

And said, "Who stole these roses ?"- 

That was most wonderful of all — 
He smiled as meek as Moses ! 



[46] 



Kings and ^eens 



THE TRICKSY DREAM 



w 



HEN I woke up this morning 

The cuckoo clock struck eight. 
I knew there was no time to lose, 
That I must pop right out of bed 
Or else I should be late. 



But still I lay in bed awhile, 
Thinking that I was out of bed. 

I thought that I was dressing, too. 
With heavy hands and feet of lead. 

I tried to hurry but I couldn't. 

Oh, what a dream to trick me! 
Yet all the time I was dream-dressing 

My conscience seemed to prick me. 

Then suddenly I sprang straight up. 

Lo, it was almost nine! 
I wasn't dressed a single bit, 

For all that dream of mine. 

I stumbled off to school, I did. 

A lump was in my throat. 
The janitor that makes the steam 

He winked as I hung up my coat. 

Oh, I went creeping to my seat. 
For teacher wore a solemn look 

And gave me, with an awful smile, 
A long black Mark within her book. 

[47] 



Kings and ^eens 



And when I told her of my dream 
That was the reason I was late, 

The front Seats they began to snicker. 
Teacher just called the Reading Class 

And made my Mark a little thicker. 



[48] 



Kings and ^eens 



MOTHER'S FACE 

OME and sit where I can see you, 
Mother dear! 
I've been sick a long, long time, 
'Most a year. 



c 



P'raps ft is a shorter time. 

Just a week ; 
I don't want to play or read 

Or to speak. 

But I want to see your face 

All the time, 
For it makes my thoughts go happy, 

Like a rhyme. 

I have counted all the figures 

In my shawl; 
And my head begins to swim 

With the cracks upon the wall. 

If you go a single minute. 

Mother sweet, 
Then I feel that horrid shiver 

Climbing up my feet. 

I love to see you sitting there. 
In your old blue gown. 

You are like a peaceful moon 
Smiling down. 
[49] 



Kings and ^eens 



You don't need to sing to me, 
Nor to lift your hand; 

Oh, you have the loveliest face 
In the whole vi^ide land. 

Fve been sick a long, long time, 

'Most a year. 
Come and sit where I can see you. 

Mother dear! 



50 



THE BOOK OF JOHN 




M 



HOUSES 

RS, O'HARA has a house 

That seems to say, Oh, Oh ! 
The blinds all off, the gate askew, 
Opening surprised big eyes at you. 



But Miss Deidamia's little cottage, 
Its mouth is thin and grey, 

And the closed shutters frown at you 
And murmur, Go away. 

Our house is pleasantest of all, 
With poppies down the walk, 

And hollyhocks that lean to you. 

The porch has arms that reach right out, 
And the knocker seems to talk. 

At twilight when I hurry home, 

My dripping skates across my back, 

The twinkling windows smile at me 
And I smile back. 

[53] 



Kings and ^eens 



BOYS AND GIRLS 

'M awful glad I'm not a girl," 
Said John, 
"To wear a skirt and shake my curls, 
And tie pink ribbons on. 



I 



*'rm awful glad I am a boy," 

Said John, 
"To play baseball, be sensible, 

And have a gun." 

"Pshaw, I don't care," Belinda said, 
"Maybe I'll wed an earl ! 

Besides, it's much more ladylike 
To be a girl." 



54] 



Kings and Queens 



OBSERVATIONS OF AN ENTO- 
MOLOGIST 

THERE are many insects in the grass, 
With many different tricks; 
Some are all legs and some all eyes, 
And some look just like sticks. 

These roll into a little ball 

And make believe be dead ; 
Those sit as still as anything 

And stare at you, instead. 

Some insects creep as carefully 

As hands around a clock; 
While others are the kinky kind 

That go off at half-cock. 

Some hang themselves from empty air, 

Like acrobats they dangle. 
There's one that perches on a stone. 

In shape like a triangle. 

Pleasing to my artistic eye, 

So I began and drew it; 
Until he flared right up, and lo ! 
He jumped as high as Jericho. 

I wish that I could do it. 
[55] 



Kings and Queens 



Some insects lose a leg or two 

With perfect willingness, 
And others perch upon a blade 

And shamelessly undress; 

When they have finished they've become 
A different kind of bug; 

They fold their wings and walk away, 
So virtuous and smug. 

I think they are adventurers, 
And that's their little trick, 

Making themselves aliases. 

Old Sleuth or Diamond Dick. 



[56] 



Kings and ^eens 



MISS DEIDAMIA TOWN AND 
THE LIE 



M 



ISS DEIDAMIA MIZPAH TOWN, 
The corners of her mouth turn down ; 
She is frost-bitten, pink and dreary. 
Fat as a duck, but not so cheery. 



I had been off with dog and gun 

And came home late when day was done. 

It was so dark I almost flew, 

When there piped a voice, "Oh, is that you?" 

"Yes, ma'am," I truthfully replied, 
Though afterward she said I lied. 
She thought that I was Granger Strong, 
And asked me where I'd been so long. 
And other questions rather strange, 
Considering I was not Grange. 

Yet I am I, no matter who 
The other person thinks is you; 
So when she asked if that was me, 
What different answer could there be? 



[57] 



Kings and ^eens 



THE SNOW LADY 

OUT in our garden stood a lady, 
Her breast was white as snow, 
For it was snow; 
Her breast was white as snow, 
I swear that this is so; 
And yet her heart was cold as ice, 
This, too, I'll prove you in a trice. 

Her figure dazzled all beholders, 
Especially on a sunny day ; 
And melting eyes she had, in truth. 

For once they melted quite away. 



58] 



Kings and ^eens 



HYPOCRISY 

OU'D like to see my dog go lame 

When I have boxed her ears; 
I tell them that's her little game, 

But still those foolish girls shed tears. 



Y 



"Poor little dog! You cruel boy, 
How can you be so mean!" 

And Roxy limps with wondrous skill 
To show how cruel I have been. 

But if she hears the dinner-bell, 

Or father's pistol-shot, 
That dog recovers mighty quick 

And streaks it for the happy spot. 



[59] 



Kings and ^eens 



SPORTING BLOOD 

HEN she sees a running hen, 
It's too late to call her then; 
Like an arrow from the bow — 
Land, you ought to see her go ! 



w 



Certainly I foot the bill, 
But it makes them hopping still. 
"Blooded fowl," they're sure to say, 
"Best I've raised in many a day." 

Roxy hangs her head for shame. 
But she's happy all the same. 



[60] 



Kings and ^eens 



BARN- YARD ETIQUETTE 

OUR yellow cat lay in the sun 
After her morning meal was done, 
Absorbed in tranquil contemplation. 
The big grey rooster strutted by, 
Peeking at her with one flat eye, 

His comb cocked up in proud elation. 

Staring at her he stood and stood 
As if he were carved out of wood. 

Demanding her attention mutely. 
But she, her head between her paws, 
Stretched out in peace her several claws 

And thus ignored him absolutely. 

If Laddie should come prowling near, 
With stiffened tail and ragged ear. 

Our cat would seem much more vivacious; 
She would not look so bored and sleek, 
But with exceeding haste would seek 

A climate loftier and more gracious. 



[6i] 



Kings and ^eens 



A SPELLBOUND AUDIENCE 

WHEN Beulah tells her stories 
To people who are busy, 
She says: "Please let me tell you just 

this un!" 
And then they all pretend to listen: 
Father paints on or mother sews and rips ; 
Katie she peels potatoes or she stirs and dips ; 
And every now and then they grunt politely through 

their lips. 
Father he says, **Ung-hung! (Where is my crimson 

lake?)" 
But mother says, "Hem-mm! (Two breadths is all 

they take.)" 
And Katie says, "Ang-ha! (I'll mix a chocolate 
cake.)" 

And then when Beulah finishes, 

They do not always know it; 
Father will dab his purple in, 
Katie will grease her pudding-tin, 

Mother will calmly mend, 
Till Beulah says, ''Please, don't you see, 

It is the very end?" 
Then father says, "Ung-hung!" 
And mother says, "Hem-mm!" 
And Katie says, "Ang-ha! Land sakes, it's four 
o'clock." 



[62] 



Kings and ^eens 



THINGS 

ROWN people do not seem to know 
Things happen of themselves, 
That books walk off just when you want 
them, 
And jars fall down from shelves. 



G 



"How did my damson jam get here? 

I put it on the topmost shelf." 
It's very simple to understand. 

It climbed down of itself. 

I cannot keep things in their place, 

However hard I try. 
They hide themselves or break themselves, 
To unknown corners betake themselves. 
Of course you never see them do it. 

For Things are very sly. 



[63] 



Kings and ^eens 



THE HEN 

H, is the hen a animal?" 
I heard my sister say. 
The truly animals have four feet, 
Don't peck and scrabble when they eat, 
And run in such a silly way. 



o 



A animal is more substantial. 

Behaves more dignified. 
Will sometimes stand quite still and think, 
Knows how to take a proper drink, 

And chews the cud or champs with pride. 

The foolish hen, in my opinion. 

Except a setting hen that's vicious, 
Is just a rather large insect, 
Of various colours, plain or specked. 

And very needlessly suspicious. 
Poor cackling things, they will not learn 
Which way to go or when to turn, 

(Though chickens are delicious!). 



[64] 



Kings and Queens 



A LESSON IN PEDIGREE 

PERCY is one of these Fauntleroys : 
He sits in a heap of Paris toys, 
And he shuts his ears when we make a 
noise. 
He has little teeth like a row of pearls ; 
His nurse does him up in sausage curls, 
And he walks on his toes like little girls. 

One day in school he whispered to me 

About his Jenny-o'-something tree, 

"And you have none," he whispered to me. 

I said I'd show him after class; 

So I gave him a view of the sassafras, 

And I said, "Do you see 

Our family tree?" 
As I switched his legs, the silly ass. 



[65] 



Kings and ^eens 



Note: John was afraid his Book was going to be 
rather slinij so he supplemented it by these prose 
compositions, F. W. 



BEING A BOY 

TO be a boy is one of the greatest things that a 
girl could ever want to be, as you will soon 
see. I was once a boy and am still a boy, I 
am glad to say. When I was a little fellow about 
three years old David and Beulah were born and I 
became a man, as that is when a fellow begins to 
know what he Is. There is a boy named George 
Gregory that lives just down the lane. He is 
my best friend. David my brother, George and 
I are often seen doing lots of things. We have a 
trapeze in the side of the yard and we all learned 
to perform on this. We used to have contests to 
decide which was the best man of us. David is 
little but he can fight like the deuce. Girls never 
fight with fists as we did. They are afraid of 
hurting each other, as you know most girls are 
very tender. We have an old grey horse named 
Emma (she is living yet) and she is gentle and we 
can do anything with her. We used to ride on her 
five or six at a time and whenever we wanted to get 
off we would just slide o£E behind. I remember one 
time when George and I were riding old Emma and 
my brother David was leading a colt that Beulah 
[66] 



Kings and ^eens 



was riding. We got out to the creek all right, but 
coming back as we turned Patience Corners old 
Emma wanted to get home in a hurry so she bunched 
up her feet and started to run like lightning. George 
was on behind me and we didn't have any saddle. 
When we were even with a pile of rocks that were 
in the road we both fell off together. George was 
on top of me and I was on top of the rocks and 
Emma was at home. Beulah was scared to ride any 
more that morning, which was funny, for it wasn't 
the colt that ran away. If it had been two girls that 
fell off it would have probably killed at least one of 
them, but you can't hurt a boy so easily. I had a fine 
time after my bruises were well. 

It is jolly in the winter when big snows come. 
We build a sled big enough for several boys to ride 
on and so a horse can pull it. We hitch a little pony 
I have to this sled and then let a raft of other boys 
fasten their small sleds on behind the big one and 
then get the pony to running and then turn a corner 
right quick and throw all of the boys on the little 
sleds off in a snowdrift. Girls could never hang on 
to a sled and let a horse run and then get thrown off 
in a snowdrift without being hurt. But girls are nice 
just the same. There are some girls I like well 
enough to draw them up a long hill and not feel 
tired. 

Pretty soon comes spring, the time for the farmers 
to commence ploughing and making the fields ready 
for grain. Father takes out his easel then and mother 

[67] 



Kings and ^eens 



plants wild flowers down by the river edge. The 
children help her and I bring her lady-slippers from 
a swamp nobody knows about but me and nobody 
ever shall, for they would go and pull them all up 
for the church on Sunday. On cool evenings we 
ride together around the country and father and 
mother have a good time like children. 

A boy has got some hard work to do, too. There 
is different kinds of work, like school and combing 
the pony and being polite to company. What good 
is any boy if he doesn't have to work a little? It 
doesn't hurt him a bit, but just makes him get 
stronger and grow faster. There is nothing like 
being a boy the whole year round. 



[68] 



Kings and '^eens 



ON "UNCLE TOM'S CABIN" 

By John 

Note: The children had a new teacher. They 
were instructed to write a "hook-review!' and con- 
sider the following points: General character of the 
book; circumstances under which it was written; 
class of people for which it is intended; your opin- 
ion of the characters. 

"T TNCLE TOM'S CABIN" was written by a 
II woman and it Is a pretty good and a nice 
book for a woman to write. This Is a large 
book. Most large books Is dull but there Is not 
many parts a person would need to skip In this book 
unless you are weak-minded like Jacob Green or 
In a big hurry to do something else. Jacob eats a 
pencil almost up every time he has to pass In a com- 
position. This book was written by the author. She 
was doing housework while she wrote It but I guess 
she did not do much housework when she wrote the 
place about Eliza and the bloodhounds. 

Little Eva Is a nice child but I like Uncle Tom 
better. Little Eva Is the kind of a little girl you 
read about In a story. I never knew any little girl 
just like her, (like she) and I don't think I should 
like her but In a book I spose she is alright. 

(Mother told me I shouldn't put that In about 
Jacob Green and the pencil but only yestlddy Teacher 
said quite distinctly that it was the "little personal 
touches" that make writing Interesting.) 

[69] 



Kifigs and ^eens 



SPRING FLOWERS 
By John 

TEACHER told me to write something poetic 
and full of imagination. She said spring 
flowers would be a good subject. She said 
here was an opportunity for "local colour." I have 
forgot the explanation of that, but I guess I under- 
stand anyw^ay. 

It doesn't seem to me that spring flowers is much 
of a subject. Spring flowers comes in the spring. If 
it is cold they come later. Sometimes they don't come 
at all. That is when you are a city child. I know 
this is so for we had a Fresh Air child onct and when 
he saw the grass he said, "What's all them?" Fresh 
Air children are very Ignorant but they think they 
know it all. 

Girls like to pick spring flowers. They put them 
on the Teacher's desk so that she will mark them 
easy. I did put some pansies on Teacher's desk onct 
but that was because I swiped them from Miss Dei- 
damia's yard because she was cross to me about my 
dog and her hens. Boys don't care much about pick- 
ing spring flowers unless boys like Percy that has thin 
ears and plays on the piano. Percy cries when he 
gets knocked down in Prison Gool. He wore a sun- 
bonnet when he went cowslipping with his grand- 
mother. His mother has pink cheeks and a good 
many little curls. She said to my mother: "You 

[70] 



Kings and ^eens 



would hardly blieve I was the mother of a big boy 
like Percy." I said, *'Oh yes, I would. Percy hasn't 
got much sense, even if he is big." I didn't mean to 
be rude. I told mother so afterward. I thought 
that was what Percy's mother meant. 

I guess this is all I have to say about spring flowers. 
(I couldn't put any ''local colour" in, because Be- 
linda has hid her colour-box. She's getting dread- 
fully selfish.) 



[71] 



Kings and ^eens 



A BRAVE FELLOW 

AS I was weeding in the garden, 
Pulling up dock and yarrow, 
I stopped to think and rest awhile 
Upon the old wheel-barrow. 
I watched a woolly caterpillar, 

A fuzzy-wuzzy fellow; 
His eyes were big, he was tipped with black, 
And his middle strip was yellow. 

He seemed upon a journey bent, 

A serious undertaking, 
To visit some far distant king, 

His annual tribute taking. 
He crawled around the sticks and stones 

With infinite precaution. 
Perhaps he feared an ambuscade 

Of Cossack or fierce Russian. 

I put my foot across his path 

To test the fellow's mettle; 
He stopped and pondered at the base 

Of Popocatapetl. 
Whether to make a long detour. 

Or take the route direct, 
Or are there hidden perils here 

The traveller should suspect? 

Vn\ 



Kings and ^eens 



At last he summoned all his courage 

To scale the giant boulder, 
And then proceeded on again, 

Grown several minutes older. 
And still, I think, he's toiling on, 

With heart that never flinches, 
Though every w^eed a jungle is. 

And leagues his anxious inches. 



[73] 



Kings and ^eens 



WASH-DAY 

ONDAYS the whole earth does their 
washing; 
Such a tubbing and a scrubbing, 
Such a splashing and a swashing. 



M 



Suds and steam and windows sweated, dumping, 

thumping ; 
Katie with her sleeves rolled up. 
Piles of clothes and punching, pumping. 

Boiler full of angry linen, bubbling, cooking ; 
I love to squeeze the bags of bluing in. 
When Katie's at the line or isn't looking. 

Talk about hard things to do! Is anything more 

rolling 
Than to have Katie roll her eyes 
As if such work was toiling? 

When well she knows that tubs of water have more 

attractions 
Than a hard bench in school all day 
And doing hideous fractions. 



[74] 



Kings and ^eens 



THE POINT OF VIEW 



s 



OMETIMES the road to Sunday-school 
Drags out so hot and dreary, 
But that same road to go trout-fishing, 
It springs along so cheery. 



I get so tired running errands 

I'd almost like to drop; 
But when I'm playing hare-and-hounds 

I never want to stop. 



75] 



Kings and ^eens 



A CONTEST ON PARNASSUS 



I 



*M going to make a poem," said Beulah, 
''This is the way 'twill go; 
Oh fairyland, oh fairyland, 
I wish I could find you sol 



Are you hidden here in the hollyhock bed. 

Or are you beyond the sun? 
If I should travel ever so far '* 

"That is no poem," said John. 

"But here is one to show you how : 

Ho! saddle ye my steed. 
I will ride like lightning with this fierce sword. 

I will rescue her tho^ I bleed *^ 

"Oh, where was he going?" Beulah cried, 
"And what was the maiden's name ?" 

"He was only a boaster," Belinda laughed, 
"For the steed has already gone lame." 



[76] 



Kings and Queens 



JOHN-A-DREAMS 

I DREAM ED I was the sexton of the church 
And there were wide pink bows on every 
door. 
I said I would untie the silly bows 
And then, I'd not be sexton any more. 

I dreamed that there were bottles in a row 
With paper flowers on the pulpit stair ; 

I took the sexton's broom in sermon time 

And brushed them with a clatter ofE from there^ 

Then they all yelled I was a wicked thing. 

They shouted and they drove me from the room. 
I had forgotten to put on my clothes, 

So off I flew upon the sexton's broom 
Up to the highest rafters of the ceiling 
With such a bird-like and triumphant feeling. 



[77] 



THE BOOK OF DAVID 



■*^''^ 





s 



THE BLIND BEGGAR 

OMETIMES on a windy night, 

When the whole world is drifted white, 



I like to wander forth alone, 
With father's cape around me thrown, 

And imagine I'm a beggar, 

Lean and blind and old, 
Driven forth from every house 

And shrivelling in the cold. 

I shut my eyes to be more blind 
And mutter as I blow along, 
"Be kind to me! Be kind!" 

Or else I huddle by the gate 

And watch the firelight from our grate 

Paint red the icy window-sill 
And leave the shadows blue and chill, 
[8i] 



Ki?igs and ^eens 



I hear the laughter from within, 
But I — I cannot enter in. 

The teardrops down my cheek they steal, 
And so I learn how beggars feel. 



[82] 



Kings and ^eens 



THE ISLANDER 

DOWN below our garden runs the river, 
Travelling ofE somewhere, 
Shadowy with the trees, 
Crumply with the breeze, 
Full of little fishes trooping here and there. 

There's a lonely Island far out in the river, 
But the river is too wide to span, 

And so deep I am afraid 

To take off my shoes and wade. 
I must wait till I have grown to be a man. 

Often I sit and think about that Island, 
Unto which I cannot go, 

With its sunset grass 

Where the glories pass, 
And its golden wood like torches in a row. 

Once I saw a Man upon the Island, 
And his face was like a round red moon ; 
So I called to him aloud, 
''Mr. Man, what is your name? 
Are you wild or are you tame?" 
Still above his scythe he bent and bowed. 

Oh, that little Island in the river ! 
How I wish I were a few more years less young, 
So to set forth and explore 
All the wonders of that shore, 
And to teach that Island-Man my mother-tongue. 

[83] 



Kings and ^eens 



FANCY'S HORN 

WANT to be a woodland hunter, 

To sound a mighty horn, 
To leap from bed, to chase the deer 

With the first streak of morn. 



I 



"That's very fine," my father said, 

'Til buy a mighty horn. 
That you may leap from out your bed 
With the first streak of morn." 

But yet I cannot seem to stir, 
When chilly morning breaks. 

For all that horn, until I smell 

The pleasant buckwheat cakes. 



[84] 



Kings and ^eens 



DADDY-LONG-LEGS 

DADDY-LONG-LEGS, Daddy-Long-Legs, 
You have a little body 
And hardly any head. 
When do you go to bed, 
And is there room beneath the clothes 
For all your many legs ? 

Daddy-Long-Legs, Daddy-Long-Legs, 

Please stop and answer me. 

Say, have you seven grandchildren, 

One child for every knee? 

If I could spring along like you 

Soon the whole world I'd travel through. 



[85] 



Kings and ^ 



ueens 



THE CREAKY ROCKER 

GRANDMA had a creaky rocker 
Where she used to rock all day, 
And she loved to sit a-murmuring 
When we all were at our play ; 
Half the time we would not listen 
To what Grandma used to say. 

Often in my bed at night-time 

I could hear her rocker creak: 

Then I knew that she was murmuring, 
With her hand upon her cheek. 

And the husky-throated rocker 
Was politely trying to speak. 

Grandma died and went to heaven 

And she took the rocking-chair ; 
But I never dared to ask them 

Though I saw it was not there. 
Yesterday upon the mountain 

Where the trees are bent and bare 
Came a creaking far above me 

From the top of the blue air ; 
And I knew that it was Grandma 
On the cup-like floor of heaven 

Rocking in her creaky chair. 



[86] 



Kings and ^eens 



PILGRIMS FROM BIRTH 



I 



LIKE the vines that run away 

And have their will; 
I like the boughs that toss and dance 

Around my sill. 



I like the flowers that blow away 

In trooping flakes; 
I like the racing moon o' nights 

And the star that shakes. 

When all the house is dark and still 

I want to go 
Off with the wind who rides away 

Shouting ''Hollo!" 

I like the birds that fly far off 

In a zigzag wedge ; 
The clouds that sweep and lightnings that leap 

On the evening's edge. 

I like my worn-out shoes that stand 

Behind the door, 
For they were travellers born, and now 

They travel no more. 



[87 



Kings and ^eens 



THE COLLAPSIBLE CUP 

I TRAVELLED once with GreatAunt Susan. 
She has a cup for drinking ; 
She said it was collapsible; 
I asked her why, and she replied, 
"You'd better do some thinking." 
But when I thought aloud she cried, 
"Shut up!" 
Now did she mean me or the cup ? 



[88] 



Kings and ^eens 



THE JOURNEY 

Y Great-Aunt Susan wears three curls 
And answers only when she must; 
She wraps her bonnet in a veil 
To keep away the dust. 



M 



She took me on the train with her. 

It really was amazing 
To see the fences jumping by 

And all the ploughboys gazing. 

A bunch of people got on once, 

Brown-skinned, with eyes that twinkled; 
They were all spangles and red roses 

And when they walked they tinkled. 

They laughed like little children, too, 
Although they were grown folk; 

Their hands kept going flippety-flop, 

And the words were queer they spoke. 

My Great- Aunt Susan was asleep; 

I joggled her: "Ahem!" 
I said, ''Look at those pretty people! 

I wish you dressed like them." 

My Great-Aunt Susan stared at me. 

"They are poor gipsy sort of creatures, 
And clothed in execrable taste. 

Behold their coarse, uncultured features!" 

[89] 



Kings and ^eens 



''I like them very much," I said, 

"They have a broad and cheery smile. 

I wish I vk^as their little boy. 

To eat and chatter all the v^hile." 

"Is this the way," my Great-Aunt said, 
"Your poor mamma has taught you? 

If you display such vulgarness 

I shall regret I've brought you." 



[90] 



Kings and ^eens 



THEOLOGY 

EULAH, Belinda, me and John, 
John said that God had long white hair, 
But I said he had none. 



B 



Belinda said, "You foolish things! 
God is a spirit up in heaven 
And only has got wings." 

Then Beulah said, "Once when it lightened, 

I saw God walking on a hill 

And I was not the least bit frightened." 

Belinda said it was not true. 

For only dead folks could see God ; 

She was the oldest and she knew. 

Then Beulah she began to cry, 
And said that God had shining feet. 
John said, "That's right," and so did I. 

Belinda said— I won't repeat, 
For Katie brought our supper in 
And so we all began to eat. 



[91] 



Kings and ^eens 



TRUANTS 

IT was a morning fresh and cool 
When we were starting out for school, 
John with his slate and jogafly 
And rithmetic and history; 
I with my pop-gun and my slings, 
Marbles and nuts and lots of things. 
John said: "How jolly it would be 
If we played hookey, you and me." 
Now John is generally so good, 
I thought I scarcely understood, 
But I replied in a casual way, 
"Let's hide our books and run away!" 
Even a saint may fall from grace, 
And so did John with a smiling face. 

Oh, what a day that was of ours, 
Roaming about for hours and hours ! 
I got so hungry pretty soon 
I said it must be almost noon. 
"We'll eat our dinner with a will 
At that red house upon the hill, 
With the stone dogs beside the gate. 
Let's hurry or we shall be late." 

John said, "But we don't know the lady. 
And p'raps our places won't be ready." 
[92] 



Kings and ^eens 



*'Oh, John, you have so little sense; 
It makes no jot of difference, 
For, the world over, at tw^elve o'clock, 
A dinner happens and people flock 
And find their places at the table 
And eat as much as they are able. 
Whoever chances to pass through 
Can just sit dow^n, like me and you." 



[93] 



Kings and ^eens 



SUPPER-TIME 

IN winter Katie lights the lamp 
At supper-time, 
And then she brings the toast and tea, 

She puts the plate of biscuit down, 
Just from the oven, pinky-brown; 
I follow her to see 
What else there's going to be 
That's nice, for tea. 

My mother draws the curtains close 

At supper-time, 
To shut the horrid faces out 

That peek in from the land of night; 
And so we gather round the light, 
My father strong and stout, 
Belinda with her pout, 

And John and me. 

In summer the long level beams 

At supper-time 
Make spindling shadows on the grass 
And flicker in a rainbow streak 
On Beulah's napkin or her cheek; 
They sparkle on the glass. 
There's cottage cheese to pass 

And strawberries for tea. 



[94] 



Kings and ^eens 



THE WAY OF THE WORLD 



G 



GOD stories always are too short, 
The dull ones are too long; 
Nice people always go too soon; 
There must be something wrong. 



I'd like to find a story-book, 
The best I've ever read, 

Which should go on for ever 'n' ever, 
At least, till I was dead. 

My porridge bowl is much too big, 
The pie plate is too small; 

The fattest cherries hang too high; 
It isn't right at all. 

I wish the cook would bake a pie 
As big as that full moon. 

And then a little one besides, 
To eat to-morrow noon. 



95 



Kings and ^eens 



A CONFESSION 

WHEN Great-Aunt Susan is displeased and 
takes me on her knee, 
And tells me of my sinfulness and how 
she grieves for me, 
I feel deep down within my heart angelically good, 
And yet I fold my hands and act as if I understood. 

But when my mother talks with me by evening can- 
dle-light 

And says how dear and sweet I am and kisses me 
Good-Night, 

I feel deep down within my heart satanically bad, 

And yet I never tell her so for fear to make her sad ! 



[96] 



Kings and Queens 



WAY OFF 

WANT to go way off, as far as ever I can 
walk, 
Way off from houses and from beds, from 
lessons and from talk. 



I 



No other people will be there but only me alone. 
Everything will be glorious and everything my own. 

There will be ponies I can ride and lots of climbing 

trees. 
I'll never have to go to bed; I'll get up when I 

please. 

Perhaps I will come back sometimes a little while 

to stay, 
And tell them of the land I've found, but never tell 

the way. 



[97] 



Kings and ^eens 



A GOOD IDEA 

THE summer is so very hot, 
The winter is so cold, 
I think it would be rather nice 
(The idea is my own) 
If summer came in winter-time 

When snow and hail were pelting. 
And winter came in summer-time 

When we were almost melting. 



[98 



Kings and ^.eens 



'LIZABETH'S LITTLE DOG 

THERE is a little waddling dog 
That lives across our street; 
He has a sort of hoary face 

And funny big black feet. 

He has pop eyes that stick right out 

And legs too far apart, 
But little 'Lizabeth M. Penny 

Loves him w^ith all her heart. 

"He is my dog," says 'Lizabeth, 

"How nice he follows me! 
And when I go to Christiandeavour 

He's good as he can be. 

"He sits upon the kitchen step, 

Whimpering one little whim, 
Then when the organ starts to play 

He barks just like the hymn. 

"Oh, I was awful sick one time; 

I had to keep my room. 
And play with checkers all day long 

And eat things on a spoon. 

" 'N' when I went out-doors again 

After that whooping-cough. 
He was so glad he wagged his tail 

And almost wagged it off." 
[99] 



LofC. 



Kings and Queens 



THE GIPSY LAD 

E have a splendid apple-orchard 

With every kind of apple-tree, 
Plump greenings and red astrakhans 
And russets brown as they can be. 



w 



At evening when the day is done 
The sky is like a golden cup, 

And when the pickers have gone home 
I gather all the gleanings up. 

The frost is white upon the grass. 
For it is late October weather, 

And far away I hear the men 

Go singing down some lane together. 

I play I am a gipsy lad 

Gathering in stealth forbidden fruit; 
I crouch behind the crooked trees 

And listen for the Romany lute. 

I answer to the camp-fire call; 

I have my bow all ready strung, 
And then I hear my father's voice, 

"David, the supper-bell has rung." 



[lOO] 



Kings and ^eens 



OUR WASHERWOMAN 



o 



UR washerwoman is a lady 

That washes clothes for other folks 
And sings sad songs and tells me jokes. 
''Oh, the days of the Kerry dancing. 
Oh, the sound of the piper s tune ' 



On Mondays when the day is fine 
She hangs the clothes upon the line, 
And then she rocks and laughs to see 
The funny shapes that they will be: 

''Oh, the days of the Kerry dancing- 



When my sailor blouse was puffed with the breeze, 
"There's a broth of a bye, as plump as you please; 
You've ate a full meal, so dhrop down on your 
knees. 

"There's Beulah's flannel dress to wring. 
Musha, praise God it's coming spring! 
It's afther her it takes its ways. 
She's such a shrinking little thing! 

"The feyther's duck suit that he wears when he 

paints, 
See him swagger and swing, by all the swate saints ! 
Now he's hung on the line, faith, I hear no com- 
plaints. 

Oh, the sound of the piper s tune " 

[lOl] 



Kings and ^eens 



Our washerwoman is a lady 
What wears a bonnet and a shawl 
And never any gloves at all. 
She has red hands and tells me jokes 
And does kind things for other folks. 
"Och, David machree, give a kiss to your Mary. 
You've the look of the bye I was bidden to bury, — 
Ohj the days of the Kerry ^* 



[ 102] 



Kings and ^eens 



THE WOODCHOPPER MAN 



A 



WAY up on the mountain there's a wood- 
chopper man, 
I can hear his axe go all the day, 
Krug-kring-kring, 
When I wake up in my bed 
And the sky is streaked with red, 
Comes that lonely chilly sound, 
Echoing on the brittle ground, 
Krug-kring-kring. 

Do you like it on the mountain, O woodchopper 
man, 

Up between the pine-trees and the moon? 

You cannot hear our kettle sing. 

But we can hear your echo ring, 
Krug-kring-kring. 

When the snowflakes flutter blue 

Often I sit and think of you 

In some wild and drifted place, 

With the storm across your face, 
Away up on the mountain, O woodchopper man. 



[103] 



THE BOOK OF BEULAH 




s 



PROVOKING BELINDA 

UPPOSE it were as dark as pitch, 
And you were by a dreadful sea, 
And if you ran you would fall in 
And if you stopped there was a witch 
Hungry for you, 
What would you do?" 



"I'd rather stay at home," said Belinda, 
"And sleep all night in bed." 

"But please suppose that you were there, 
And that there was no home nor bed, 
And if you ran you would fall in. 
And if you stopped she'd catch your hair 

And crunch at you, 

What would you do?'* 

"I'd rather stay at home," said Belinda, 
"And sleep all night in bed.'* 
[107] 



Kings and ^eens 



DELPHIC UTTERANCES 



w 



HEN winter nights blow bitterly 
They sit and murmur low 
Strange things of Him and Her and 
Us 
And others I do not know. 



The door is open to my room 

That I may keep more warm; 

They talk about the Little Child. 
"She is asleep. No harm." 

The Little Child cannot be I, 

For I am very old, 
And I can see that highest star 

Shake in the windy cold. 

They sit and murmur by the fire, 

"My dear, which would be best- 
And then the logs begin to roar 
So I can't hear them any more 
And never know the rest. 



[io8] 



Kings and ^eens 



THE GREAT MEADOW 

THE meadow is the sea, 
Deep, deep with grass 
Where the daisies dance like spray 
And the skimming butterflies play 

And the breeze runs through the grass 
Rippling it all the way. 

Or the travelling storm-winds pass 
Till the billows roll from pole to pole 
Shimmering purple, green and grey. 
The wind and the sun and the shadows of clouds 

Go racing over the sea 
Where the daisies toss like spray 
And the skimming swallows play. 
And it shimmers and changes eternally. 
Surging from purple to green and grey. 

Then the billows call to me, 
And I open my arms out wide 

And I let my hair float free 
And I swim for leagues and leagues 
Far out to sea. 



[109] 



Kings and ^eens 



STRANGE CITIES 

THERE are strange cities under the sea 
Where drowned folk dwell 
Under the surge and under the swell. 
The sound of their laughter comes to me 
Like the moaning of a shell. 
Their waists are wound with the oozy weeds 
And their fingers drip 
While fathoms above them floats the ship, 
They sit and slip 
Through their hands for ever strings of ocean beads. 

There are strange cities in the sky, 
Pale tower and dome, 
Where high and silent ladies roam 

And weave themselves large wreaths of flowers 

For dances with the stars and hours. 

I see the tall doors of their home, 

And the shapes of their horses as they fly 
Through the faint sky. 

With purple feet and manes of foam. 



[no] 



Kings and ^eens 



THE GREY FEET 

OFTEN hear footsteps a- following behind; 
But Katie laughs, "La, child, you hear them 
in your mind." 



I 



I call them my Grey Feet because they seem to stray 
Along the edge of evening when kittens love to play. 

They rustle in the woods, they creakle on the stair ; 
I turn around to speak, but no one's ever there. 

I think they are the Shadows of all the different 

things. 
The Shadows of tall trees, of ships and clouds and 

kings, 

Tiptoeing off somewhere, whispering. Hush and 

Hark, 
For shadows never must be seen after the streets 

get dark. 

I call them my Grey Feet, they go so soft and blind ; 
But Katie laughs, "La, child, vou hear them in your 
mind." 



[Ill] 



Kings and ^eens 



RUSTLING LADIES IN THE CORN 

WHEN the frosts go stepping whitely, 
And the gardens look forlorn 
And you hear the gun-shots cracking 
And the wild ducks blow their horn, 
Then it is that rustling ladies 

Walk between the rows of corn. 

All the world is mist and broadness, 

Trees begin to swim 
As the evening dusk grows deeper, 

And the hills float large and dim 
While the moon like some shut lily 

Blossoms on the mountain's rim. 

Then those tall, mysterious ladies 

Rustle through the dark. 
Up and down they sweep and swishle, 

And they whisper, "Hark!" 
And the jewels on their bosom 

Flicker with a wandering spark. 

There are plumed knights among them, 
Flash of mail and shine of spear, 
Each one dancing with his dear. 

Oh, the ripples of their laughter, 
Oh, the ballads that I hear! 

But by daytime they have vanished. 
Shining skirt and glinting spear, 

And the wind among the tassels 
Is the only sound I hear. 
[112] 



Kifigs and ^eens 



WISDOM AND KNOWLEDGE 

THESE are the things I want to know 
quite soon : 
Who married Mr. Sun and Mrs. Moon, 
And are the stars their children? 
What makes the hilly roads climb up so slow 
And then run down so fast, I'd like to know? 
Where does the Wind live when he stays at home, 
And where do bubbles go from out the foam? 
Where does my Shadow sleep when I have gone to 

bed, 
And are there people anywhere with neither feet 

nor head? 
Why don't To-morrow^s ever come, though ever on 

the way? 
And whom does dear God play with when He wants 
to play? 



[113] 



Kings and ^eens 



MY RUNAWAY SUNBONNET 

I HAVE a dimity sunbonnet. 
I stood upon a chair 
And tied it to its proper hook 
With very special care, 
For that sunbonnet has a way 

Of getting torn by brambles; 
I know it slips outdoors at night 
To seek adventurous rambles. 

But the next morning after breakfast 

That bonnet was untied! 
That's how I proved its naughtiness, — 

Roaming the country-side. 
And so if mother says to me, 

"How did you tear your hat?" 
I shall reply quite truthfully, 

"// was not I did that" 



[114] 



Kings and ^eens 



FROM THE LOOKING-ROCKS 

THERE are so many, many roads 
All leading ofE somewhere, 
With fields like green and mottled rugs 
And spotted cows like lady-bugs, 
And little ants of men that pass. 
And far-off waters grey as glass, 
With specks of sails and houses, too, — 
So many hills all faint and blue, 

^ And white clouds fleecily unfurled, — 
It is a very curious world. 
But this most curious of all, 
That on this round terrestrial ball 
So many people there should be 
Who don't know anything of me! 



[115] 



Kings and ^eens 



HATS 

LOVE to see the hats and caps, 
Like birds each on his perch, 
The little sunburned hats for school 
And the pretty ones for church. 



I 



Some of them smile so grave and sweet, 
And some are full of jokes, 

But all of them have human faces 
And look just like the folks. 

They're very quiet when I'm by 

And never even peep. 
But oh ! the times they have at night 

When we are all asleep. 

They go of? flying by themselves, 
The pink one goes to dances; 

And all the gipsy hats and caps 
Follow the fields and fences. 



[ii6] 



Kings and ^eens 



MY SISTER SILENCE 

ESTERDAY I buried Silence 
Underneath the lilac-bush; 
All the robins whispered Hush! 



Y 



Silence was my little sister 

And we often played together 

At the back door in the sun 

And through the orchard when school was done. 

Silence came and went so softly 
No one knew that she was there 
Except I, and I said nothing, 
For the others would not care. 

But she always walked beside me 
With a face that shone, 
And she lay upon my pillow 
When I slept alone. 

I am very sad this morning 
Because Silence had to die. 
No one understands but I. 



["7] 



BEYOND 




I 



BEYOND 

'D like so much to get Beyond 
But I am always Here; 
I climbed up on the highest hill; 
Oh, my legs ached, but farther still 
I saw Beyond. 



It's Over There, just one step past 

Where the blue sky comes down. 
I think if some one only would 
Go first and hold It tight, I could 
Get There at last. 

Or else to take It by surprise 

When things are still and grey; 
Slip softly to that sunset ledge, 
Then see off from the very Edge 
With my own eyes. 



[121] 



Kings and ^eens 



THE LIZARD 

THE lizard is a pretty creature, 
Like amber through and through, 
Sprinkled with spots like polka dots, 
Hands that hang helpless with surprise, 
A little tail that curls and flies. 
And tender eyes of dew. 

He hides behind a blade of plantain 

In the tangles of the lawn: 
He likes to get nooks dark and wet 
In the damp moss or by the brook; 
He wears a timid peeping look, 

Most like a fairy fawn. 

One day I put him in my pocket 

Because I had no cup 
To put him in — it was a sin 
To make him tremble with great fear. 
But when I fished him out, oh dear! 

He was all shrivelled up! 



[122] 



Kings and ^eens 



NAUGHTINESS 

HY am I sometimes naughty 
And sometimes very good? 
What makes me act so difEerent? 
I never understood. 



w 



When In the morning I wake up 
I don't know which 'twill be, 

A day all full of naughtiness 
Or a good day for me. 

But when I go to bed at night 
I know which I have been, 

A Mamma's Joy all day or else 
A creature full of sin. 

"I thank thee, Lord, for my good heart,' 
This Is the prayer I make; 

Or else: "Forgive my naughtiness. 
Dear God, for Jesus' sake." 



[123] 



Kings and ^eens 



MYSTERIES 

H, where was I before I was born? 
Belinda, what do you say?" 
"Why, you were dead before you 
were born ; 
All children start that way." 



o 



*'You can't be dead till you are born ; 

You've got no body on; 
And yet you have to be somewhere, 

So's to be ready," said John. 

"Oh, who began me at the first? 
Who told me where to go?" 
"I just began myself," said Belinda, 
"I'm the oldest and I know." 



I 124] 



Kings and Qveens 



DREAMS 

BELINDA'S dreams are all mixed up; 
John never dreams at all. 
But I, I dream the strangest things 
Of woods and watches, handsome kings, 
And David dreams things, too; 
Places we never knew, 
We see them in our dreams. 

I'm often running up and down 

Through other people's houses: 
I try to find the right way out, 
Stooping so quietly about; 

I feel just like a thief, 

And oh, it's such a relief 
When I let go that dream. 

Last night I dreamed a horrid dog 

Was following at my heels; 
And I was on a lonely road, 
The dog had shining teeth that showed. 

I yelled but some one whispered, *'Hush! 

There is a robber in that bush.'* 
It was a frightful dream! 



[125] 



Kings and ^eens 



I 



THE GREAT SEA 

OFTEN dream of a great sea 
As blue as ever it can be, 



And people going off in boats 

And shouting from a million throats, 

A "vast innumerable throng," 

And huge white waves that dash along; 

White hands like branches stretching out, 
I don't know what it's all about. 

And David said he'd been there too, 
Therefore we think it must be true. 

I wish he'd find me in that crowd; 
Next time I'll call to him aloud. 



[126] 



Kings and ^eens 



A DREAM TRAGEDY 

DREAMED a dream of brother John; 

"Go forth with sword and bow!" 
He was tall and shining 

And I was proud of him so. 



I 



He stood on a hill in the sun, 

I saw him against the sky ; 
I called to him very loudly, 

I wanted to say good-bye. 

And then I saw him no more: 

"O John, my tall little John! 
Where are you, John?" 

I knew he was lying face down somewhere, 
And I not there! 



[127] 



Kings and ^eens 



MEMORY 

THERE are just two kinds of remember : 
You either remember clear as glass, 
The way John does in arithmetic class, 
Or else you sort-of-remember, 
The way I do from my history book, 
The way that dim reflections look 
In the shiny black piano legs, 
Or the shaky water of the brook; 
That's how I sort-of-remember. 

Now mother says I can't remember 
The time before I did get born, 
Seven years ago on Sunday morn ; 

And yet I sort-of-remember 
My little body riding far 
From the place where wings and circles are, 
With voices flying up as dust, — 
Till mother twinkled like a star; 

That's how I sort-of-remember. 



[128] 



Kings and ^eens 



THE GREEN AND YELLOW 
BASKET 

I-tisk-itj I-task-it, 

A green and yellow basket, — 
Oh, we went singing all around, 
The wind In our sleeves made a whistling sound; 
Some little maiden long ago 
Carried that basket to and fro. 
I think 'twas green with woven reeds 
And stuck with dandelion weeds. 

What was that multiplying rule 
I tried to learn all day In school? 

I-tisk-it, I-task-it J — 

To-morrow she will ask it. 
Seven times nine is sixty-three; 
How very, very old 'twould be. 
That little boy who looked at me. 
His eyes were bluer than the sea. 

I-tisk-it, I-task-it, 

A green and yellow basket, 

I sent a letter to my love 

And on the way I lost it, I lost it. 
That little boy he had a ball 
And in the yard he tossed it, he tossed it. 
Nine times seven is sixty-three. 
Perhaps he tossed the ball for me, — 

And on the way I lost it, I lost it. 
[129] 



Kings and ^eens 



I wish that I could go to sleep! 

How can I when I think so deep? 
/ sent a letter to my love, — 
One star below and two above! 

When all the stars hang from the trees 

I'll pick as many as I please. 

"In France the folk are very gay, 

They drink light wines and dance all day." 

Our sewing-woman is from France 

And yet I never saw her dance. 

Who found the letter that was lost? 
It was a pretty ball he tossed. 
Seven times nine is sixty-three, 
His eyes were bluer than the sea. 
1-tisk-it, l-task-it. 
The letter and the — basket. 
That little boy is — seven times seven, 
The stars go climbing up to heaven. 



[130] 



Kings and ^eens 



THE BACKDOOR 

LIKE the backdoor of our house 

The very best of all; 
The sun shines down upon the step, 

The pump peeks round the wall. 



I 



Katie comes out in her blue apron, 
To shell her pan of peas; 

I sit and tell her fairy stories 
And do just as I please. 

Front doors are dark and dreadful; 

They wear a bolt and lock, 
And you go out with creaky shoes 

Smoothing your Sunday frock. 

Mother and father walking first. 
Their Bibles in their hand, 

And you with such a funny thirst 
They never understand. 

The kittens like the backdoor, too; 

They blink there in the sun, 
The grey puss with the milky eyes 

And the puffy yellow one. 

But mother says when I grow up, 
And wear long skirts and rings, 

I mustn't sit on backdoor steps 

And play with cats and things. 

[131] 



Kings and ^eens 



But when I visit other children 
That I must ring the bell 

And sit upon a parlour chair 

And ask them if they're well. 



How sort of lonesome it will be! 

It almost makes me cry. 
Never to sit on backdoor steps 

Nor make a nice mud pie ! 



[132] 



Kings and ^eens 



LONELY 

SINCE mother went away last week 
There's nothing much to do, 
There's nothing nice and nothing new. 
The little kitten scratched my cheek, 
The old cat is too dull to play. 
It seems so long since yesterday. 

I ran up-stairs this afternoon 
To tell her something good, 
And there her empty rocker stood; 
I tried to learn a little tune 
And this was all the notes would say: 
"It seems so long since yesterday." 

Since mother went away last week. 

The house looks very big; 

I tried to plant my seeds and dig. 
But every time I went to speak, 
I 'membered she was gone away. 

It seems so long since yesterday. 



[133] 



Kings and ^eens 



A QUEER POEM 

Note: — Beulah picked up one day a volume of 
plays by a certain Belgian writer and became 
deeply absorbed by them. After awhile she came 
to her mother and said: ''Mother, I have written 
a queer poem like that book of funny stories, the 
kind youre not meant to understand/* 

THIS is my little boy 
That I have made all myself. 
"Ho-ho," cried Jacques and Jacqueminot, 
"We will throw him down from the shelf." 

He is not a doll, he will not break; 

His heart is red and it beats. 

I am going to name him a name you don't know ; 

We will walk like people up and down the streets. 

"Ho-ho," cried Jacques and Jacqueminot, 

"We will laugh at you and walk behind. 

We will step on your skirts; 

He is not alive, 

And his eyes are blind." 

They were an army of bulls all laughing ; 
Their laughter went ofF like guns. 
I said: "Please don't! My little boy will wake up.'* 
They tramped all day and they beat on my house: 

"You have got to take us. 

We are the only Real Ones!* 

[134] 



Kings and 'i^ueens 



A CRYING IN THE NIGHT 



I 



WOKE up in the night 

Because a foot went by my door, 
And then I heard a little cry, 
And then I fell asleep again 
And heard no more. 



But when the sun peeked in 

And pulled me from my bed, 
I heard again that little cry, 
And so I knew it was no dream 
But real, instead. 

I tiptoed into mother's room. 

And some one said, ''Come here." 
My mother smiled at me 
Because upon her arm there lay 
A little tiny dear. 

How sweet it was of her, 

Not even knowing our tongue, 
To come to us so young. 
To leave the nest of the dear Lord 
And choose us of her own accord! 
She cried to be let in, 
Crying just like a bird. 
How glad I am that mother heard ! 



[135] 



Kings and ^eens 



THE LITTLE SHOE 



B 



ABY learned to speak our tongue, 
Then she went away. 
I remember like my prayers 

The sweet words she used to say. 



Baby used to laugh and coo, 

Kiss us every one. 
All the rooms seem empty now 

With the laughter gone. 

Baby had the dearest shoes. 

She would creep from chair to chair. 
Mother counted all the shoes 

That the baby used to wear. 

"Mother dear," said I, 

"Let me keep that littlest one, 
And please do not cry. 
Babies like to go barefoot 

Up there in the sky." 

Mother held me to her heart. 

But I ran away 
With one shoe the baby wore, 

And I cried all day. 



[136] 



Kings and ^eens 



THE CONSOLER 

NE day my mother looked so sad, 
And I knew why; 
I sat down on the floor by her 
And made-believe be glad. 



o 



"Please smile one smile, O mother sweet !" 
Then mother smiled at me; 
It made me put my head right down 

And sob upon her feet. 



[137] 



Kings and ^eens 



THE BACKWARDS ROAD 

I KNOW that somewhere there must be 
A Backwards Road, 
A road like this, 
Leading to all old lovely times, 
Picnics last year, forgotten rhymes. 
And dolls I used to kiss. 

But every road beneath my feet 

Leads farther off 

From yesterday; 
And when I creep into my bed 
I feel it rock beneath my head 

Like ships upon their way. 

If I could only find that Road, 

The Backwards Road, 

How quick I'd walk, 
And change the naughty things I've done, 
Pick up my playthings one by one. 

And hear the baby talk. 



[138] 



SEP 85 1803 



